Emil and Riven, both of them turned in perfect unison, their eyes started to narrow down a bit as they saw the shadowed corridor of the trial's chamber.
Riven's voice was sharp but cold. "Who's there? Come out now or I will not show any mercy on you if I catch you."
There were no responses, just silence.
Only the faint flicker of torches was there. The faint flickering from the inactive enchantments filled the air, it was acting like the slow nerve of the dungeon.
Then—a soft, barely audible rustle came, it was more like a small whisper.
They moved, they were careful and quiet, and their steps echoed in the dungeon silence. When they were about to reach the place from where the voice came, Riven reached for his sword, and placed his hand on the sword's handle, Emil took his hand to his waist and pulled his sword in a flash.
In one clean motion, they both aimed toward the place from where the voice came.
